


o, golden muse.

by thrakaboom



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Child Abuse, Crossdressing, Grooming, M/M, Molestation, Muses, Pedophilia, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:28:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25203208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thrakaboom/pseuds/thrakaboom
Summary: After seeing Bart in a skirt, Kyle decides he's his muse and gets increasingly creepy about it. It takes Bart a while to realize.
Relationships: Kyle Rayner/Bart Allen
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	o, golden muse.

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the Titans run from the 90s when Kyle and Bart were on the team.  
> This is messed up and I don't know why I wrote it. This is not supposed to be anything other than a horribly sad and empty feeling piece.

**_i._ **

“Thanks for letting me borrow some hand-me-downs!” Impulse smiled and spun in a circle. The floral skirt he had picked out from a pile of old clothes fanned out around him, showing off his milky calves and thighs.

“You’re welcome to whatever you want to borrow.” Donna laughed at the boy’s enthusiasm. “Especially since your costume got destroyed.”

Kyle swallowed, unable to pry his eyes away from the boy. He had been cute before, yes, but how annoying he could be discouraged any other… thoughts… Kyles might have had about him. The skirt, however… Oh, the skirt. It changed the boy from a little imp to a fully fledged cherubic muse with flowers and lyre in hand in Kyle’s mind. Kyle clenched and unclenched his hands, glad his costume shifted to hide how affected he was by looking at Impulse.

“Dude, don’t you think it’s kinda girly?” Damage asked quietly. “You know, wearing a skirt?”

Impulse shrugged. “In the future, clothes don’t really have a gender.”

“I think you look charming,” Kyle spoke through a dry mouth.

“See?” Impulse grinned at Damage smugly. To Kyle, his smile outshone the sun. He clenched his fist again. “Green Lantern thinks I’m charming.”

**_ii._ **

Impulse was wearing the skirt again. 

His hair was fluffy from just being towel dried. The boy had just showered, seemingly unable to not make a mess of himself in a fight.

He had on one of Arsenal’s old band t-shirts and sat cross-legged as he smashed the buttons on his handheld game system, delightfully pink tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth. Unfortunately, the skirt was long enough to cover Impulse’s knees and anything else sitting cross-legged might have revealed.

“My real name is Kyle,” Kyle found himself blurting out after staring at Impulse for about three minutes.

“Oh!” Impulse looked up at him suddenly from his game system and blinked behind his goggles. “Mine’s Bart!”

**_iii._ **

He couldn’t take it any longer. That cherub face, the soft hair, the adorable voice, the thin little frame. 

The skirts Bart started wearing more frequently.

Kyle had to have time alone with him. He had spent all of the past week thinking of any way to get Bart alone. He’d hardly been able to concentrate on a giant hand construct, that was how out of it he had been.

“I’m working on illustrations for a children’s book,” he told Bart. “ I really need a model for some poses. I was wondering if you’d be willing to do it.” Sheepishly, he added “You’re really the only kid I know.”

There was a reason for that, Kyle knew.

Bart looked like he might refuse- posing and modelling was a lot of standing still. Finally he said “maybe…”

“I’ll make you lunch and dessert,” Kyle cajoled. “And a roll of quarters for the arcade by my apartment. I know how you love video games.”

Bart’s eyes went wide at the promise of sugar and a whole entire roll of quarters. “Well… Max says I need to learn to sit still…”

Kyle didn’t know who Max was.

Bart held out his wrist, pushing his sweater sleeve up. “Write your address and when I should come over on my arm.” He looked so earnest when he explained. “‘Cause I’ll forget otherwise.” 

Kyle shivered when he held Bart’s thin little wrist to write on it.

“Wear one of your skirts when you come.”

**_iv._ **

Bart came in a long denim skirt with buttons down the front that Kyle had never seen before/ he was still adorable, even so covered up. His hair was a brown halo around his chubby cheeks due to having run here. Bart practically threw his jacket on the ground.

Kyle had cleaned his tiny studio apartment obsessively before the boy’s arrival. He had washed his kitchen table three times. He couldn’t bring himself to care about how Bart disrespected it. He was a little angel. Kyle’s perfect muse.

“I just want you to sit at the table today,” Kyle explained. “You can eat while I draw.”

Bart giggled and bounced into the hardback chair, settling himself in. “Like this?” 

“Cross your legs at the ankles and press your thighs together,” Kyle instructed. Bart obeyed, shifting in his seat like this was some novel new game. His eyes were glued to the plate of spaghetti and meatballs and the tray of chocolate chip cookies laid out in front of him on the table.

“Hike your skirt a little higher for me?”

Bart did so before tucking into the lunch with gusto. The boy was obviously being careful to eat at a normal person’s speed.

Kyle swallowed and waited until he was behind his easel to adjust his pants.

**_v._ **

Kyle had given the quarters to Bart at the entrance to the arcade and had followed the child in, justifying it to himself as playing protector to Bart if anyone tried to start anything because of the skirt Bart was wearing.

_ He might be mistaken for a girl,  _ Kyle thought as he watched him.  _ Just a flat-chested one. He’s pretty enough for it. _

Kyle couldn’t tear his eyes away from that little tush while Bart bent over the arcade cabinet. That little skirt wearing minx. Bart groaned when the game finally got the better of him, but his eyes lit up quickly. 

“They have Time Crisis! Kyle, come play with me!”

**_vi._ **

Kyle kept the once a week poses innocent and unassuming but slowly ade them more complex. The more his muse posed for him, the more he spent his free time staring at the Bart on paper as he pumped his hand. His Erato, his Camille, his Kiki, his Lolita.

Bart wore different skirts every week. He smiled and talked non stop as he posed.

**_vii._ **

Bart wore a yellow plaid skirt. He posed like he was reaching a high shelf. Kyle made him chicken kiev and chocolate cake. They had been Alex’s favorites. Bart spent his quarters on Street Fighter.

**_viii._ **

It was chilly and Bart had black tights under his knee length brown corduroy skirt. Kyle explained he didn’t have a jump rope for Bart to pose with so he would have to pretend. Lunch and dessert were moussaka and baklava. Kyle had learned to make the recipes for Donna. Bart set a record on the Alien vs. Predator cabinet.

**_ix._ **

Denim skater skirt. Kneeling like drawing with chalk on the sidewalk. Lamb and apple cake. Daytona USA.

**_x._ **

White tennis skirt. Stretching his leg behind his back. Cheeseburgers with mushrooms and strawberry shortcake. Area 51.

**_xi._ **

“Kyle, are you sure this is for a children’s book?” Bart asked, holding his skirt up around his thighs just how Kyle told him to.

He was weaning a plaid jumper like private school girls, white tights, and a matching headband. Kyle had bought him the whole outfit.

“This is for something else.” Kyle’s breath hitched as he moved Bart’s wrists higher. “But you’re my best model.”

Bart blushed with pride. He liked hearing he was the best at anything. “O-okay.”

Kyle made popcorn shrimp and rhubarb pie, some of Bart’s favorites. He let Bart pour extra sugar on top. 

He gave Bart two rolls of quarters at the arcade instead of just the one. Bart kicked his ass at Marvel vs. Capcom.

**_xii._ **

Gray velvet maxi skirt. Lift your skirt higher this time. Calzones and tiramisu. Street Fighter II.

**_xiii._ **

Yellow and to the mid thigh. Bend over. Steak fajitas and dulce de leche. Sunset Riders.

**_xiv._ **

“Put your underwear around your knees. God, you’re so cute Bart. So charming.”

**_xv._ **

Pink babydoll sundress, another gift from Kyle. Press your thighs together and cover your crotch with your hands. Chicken wings with biscuits and gravy and chess pie for dessert- more of Bart’s favorites. Galga.

**_xvi._ **

Fifty dollars a week in quarters, not to mention money for a nice homemade lunch and dessert was getting expensive on a freelance artist’s salary. Especially with how much time being Green Lantern took up. This wasn’t even including the occasional gift of clothing. It was worth every penny for Bart.

**_xvii._ **

Donna’s hand-me-down floral skirt. Hold your skirt so your little cock shows. King ranch mac and cheese, fried green tomatoes, and caramel cake- even more of Bart’s favorites. He just managed to finish them. He barely paid attention to Mortal Kombat.

**_xviii._ **

Bart was chewing his lower lip in the cute little schoolgirl outfit. Kyle wasn’t able to help himself anymore when Bart looked so adorable and kissable, touchable. He had to have him, he had to possess him, to touch him. Kyle held Bart’s little cock in his hand like he was posing him. He had to have him. He rubbed his thumb over the tib. He had to touch him.

There was a sudden rush of wind and an emptiness where the young speedster had been standing a split second ago. He had been scared off, skittish, Kyle realized. Like a young rabbit. 

Bart’s underwear was left falling to the ground. Kyle caught them and pressed them to his nose.

He couldn’t… he knew he couldn’t do this again.

He would keep the souvenir of his pretty little muse just the same.

**_xix._ **

Bart ran. His heart couldn’t slow, his head couldn’t stop.

He ran from New York City to Alabama and lapped the state over and over, trying to get what had just happened from his mind.

He had… His hand…

He thought about running to Keystone. Talking to Wally. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t.

He ran home, faster than he had ever run before until he was in the top bunk of his bunk bed, curling around himself.

Bart slowed down. 

Bart sobbed.


End file.
